


The Gang Bangs Sweet Dee

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: “Nah,” Dennis says, switching back to a normal tone of voice, “we’re just teaching Charlie the finer points of sexual intercourse with a woman—well, with Dee, since she’s all we’ve got. Close enough.”What it says on the tin.





	The Gang Bangs Sweet Dee

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [haemophilus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus) for reading this over and being so encouraging while I was writing it!

Dee’s just sobered up enough that she’s starting to reconsider whether this might actually be the worst idea ever when the front door slams and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

Goddamnit, she’d thought Mac was staying late to help close the bar with Frank. She holds her breath, hoping he’ll pass by Dennis’s half-closed door and just collapse into his own bed, but his booted footfalls pause halfway down the hallway, and she sighs. Fuck. This is weird enough without Mac getting involved.

The door creaks all the way open, and Mac’s stupid face peers in, a half-grin, half-leer at the three of them on the bed. “Gangbang?” He says approvingly, nodding at Dennis before really taking in the rest of them, her curled up on the center of the bed, Charlie splayed out beside her in nothing but grubby plaid boxers. “Ew, Dee, no. What?”

She’s trying to be angry—she _is_ angry—but there’s a hitch in her breath she can’t hide, and Dennis pounces like a cat on a mouse, sweeping her hair behind her ear and leaning in, breath hot and voice low. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sis? All three of us, running a train on you, til you’re so fucked-out you can’t even move?”

“You’re disgusting, Dennis,” she whispers, but she knows she isn’t convincing him because she can’t even convince herself. As offended as she wants to be, her cunt aches at the thought. It’s been _so long_ since she’s been fucked, and even longer since it’s been any good. Rex is the only decent lay she’s had in years, and she hasn’t been with him since last January.

“Nah,” Dennis says, switching back to a normal tone of voice, “we’re just teaching Charlie the finer points of sexual intercourse with a woman—well, with Dee, since she’s all we’ve got. Close enough.”

That snaps her out of her haze of lust, and she drives her elbow back into Dennis’s ribcage, temporarily satisfied when he lets out a grunt of pain. “I can leave anytime, dickbags, and good luck finding anyone else—”

“Desperate enough?”

“— _generous_ enough,” she continues, glaring at Mac, “to let your gross grubby hands all over them. Speaking of which, Charlie, did you even wash your hands today? At all? Or brush your teeth, or—”

“I washed my hands!” Charlie screeches, indignant. “I washed them right after I cleaned up that puddle in the men’s room.”

“Oh my god, Charlie, that was like five hours ago! Go—go wash your hands and gargle. You boners have mouthwash, don’t you?”

“There should still be some left, I don’t think we drank it all.”

“Oh my god, why—you know what? Never mind. I don’t need to know. Just—go get clean enough that I’m not gonna get a disease.” Dee buries her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair. “This was a terrible idea, I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

“Go show Charlie where the mouthwash is, Mac.” Dennis makes a shooing motion towards the door. “If we don’t have any more, just… have him gargle some vodka, there should be some in the freezer.”

Dee watches them go from behind the curtain of her hair. She’s not joking about regretting this already—there’s no way this can end well, not for the dynamics of their group or for her body in general—but she’s also loose and pliable from the joint the three of them had smoked before Mac got home, warm from the shots of tequila they’d slammed at the bar, and so turned on she can feel it on her thighs when she shifts back and forth, slickness making the slide smooth and easy underneath her skirt. Dennis isn’t helping anything, the tips of his fingers teasing their way underneath the hem of her shirt, scratching lightly at the skin just above her waistband. The touch is _just_ too light to do anything but frustrate, and it’s lighting up every nerve in her body.

She fights a shiver.

**Lesson One: Kissing**

“Kiss Dee, Charlie. Let’s get a sense of your technique.”

Charlie nods his head jerkily, swallowing hard enough that Dee can see his Adam’s apple bob, and brings a hand up to the side of her head, fingers pushing her hair back behind her ear. It’s weirdly sweet, and there’s a flutter in Dee’s stomach she doesn’t know how to account for.

She shuts her eyes and leans forward, letting Charlie take the lead—after all, they’re not evaluating _her_ abilities here—and she’s gratified when she feels Charlie’s lips press against hers barely a moment later. No hesitation—always a good thing.

The mouthwash was a good idea, she thinks when Charlie licks at her lips, opening her mouth with his tongue—god only knows what he would have tasted like without it, but right now he’s pleasantly minty, warm and wet. He licks into her mouth with purpose, like he’s trying to find something, his teeth grazing her bottom lip as he presses against her. His beard scratches against her mouth, and it’s a strange sensation—most of the guys she fucks are clean-shaven, and they never spend a lot of time kissing anyway. It feels good though, although inwardly she grimaces at the beard burn she’s probably going to have to try to cover up. Whatever, that’s future-Dee’s problem.

She twists her fingers in his hair and tugs, pleased when he lets out a startled little moan into her mouth. Good—she loves when they’re pliable.

Leaning back, Dee breaks the kiss and licks her lips. She’s still got her hand in Charlie’s hair and he’s breathing hard next to her, a flush riding high on his freckled cheeks, his mouth wet and shiny as he watches her. His dick is hard, tenting his boxers, and she raises her knee to press against it, tugging his hair again and watching his eyes fall shut on a groan.

“Jesus, Dee—”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Deandra,” Dennis admonishes, and she and Charlie both snap their heads toward him. Charlie looks annoyed as shit and Dee can’t blame him—she’d nearly forgotten Dennis was there, or that Mac was lurking by the door, and now that the bubble has popped she feels weirdly exposed.

“Just—get on with it, dickbags. He’s good, okay? The kissing’s good.”

**Lesson Two: Fingering**

“Here, put your hand on mine.” Dennis grabs Charlie’s hand without waiting for him to comply, wrapping his fingers around Charlie’s so the back of Charlie’s hand is cradled in Dennis’s palm. “Now, the way to maximise pleasure for a lady is to make a ‘come here’ gesture inside her.” Dennis bends his index and middle fingers up, taking Charlie’s with him. He’s got his chin hooked over Charlie’s shoulder and his eyes are dark when he snaps his gaze up to look at Dee.

Dennis places a soft kiss against Charlie’s neck, then moves their joined hands down between Dee’s spread legs. “We’re just gonna use our middle fingers right now, because Dee is a slut but even she can’t take four fingers at once, not right off the bat.”

Charlie turns his head to look at Dennis, blinks at him wide-eyed and owlish. “ _We_? You’re not gonna—that’s—”

“I know, buddy, but how else am I gonna teach you?” Dennis’s voice is soft and soothing, and Dee has to bite back a groan because she hates how much this is getting her off.

“That’s disgusting, dude,” Charlie huffs out, but he doesn’t shake Dennis’s hand off. Dennis laughs, trails kisses against Charlie’s bare shoulder up his neck, pauses behind his ear. Charlie groans, and Dennis never takes his eyes off Dee.

When they slide into her, Dee hears a bitten-off moan from the door, and her eyes snap up to meet Mac’s, glazed and dark. The look on his face is halfway between murderous and hungry, and Dee bares her teeth at him before Dennis and Charlie start picking up speed and her eyes fall shut. She knows he’d kill to be where she is right now and knows too that he’d never admit it, and knowing she’s getting what he wants instead of him makes every thrust that much more delicious.

The two of them thrusting into her is dirty and wrong and Dee revels in it, opening her eyes again to watch them, Dennis’s elegant pale hand wrapped around Charlie’s tan fingers, pumping into her again and again. Charlie’s got his eyes trained on her cunt, watching their fingers move, but Dennis’s gaze is on her, even as he mouths at Charlie’s freckled shoulder, making him shudder.

Dennis slips out, and Dee whines at the loss before Charlie makes up for it with another finger of his own. Two of Charlie’s fingers are thicker than one of his and one of Dennis’s, and the change in fullness sends Dee writhing. This is what she loves about sex, the unpredictability of it—vibrators are good but they’re always the same size, the same speeds, controlled by her own hand. There aren’t any surprises and that unsteadiness, the not knowing, that’s what really gets Dee off. It always has.

“Do it like I told you, Charlie,” Dennis murmurs. “Like you’re calling a dog to come here.”

“Fuck you, Dennis, I’m not a dog—”

“Did I say you were a dog? Shut up, Dee, and come for Charlie. You’re close, aren’t you?”

She is, that’s the thing, and she hates that Dennis knows her so well. “Rub my clit, Charlie,” she gasps instead of answering Dennis, and the barest brush of his callused thumb against her is enough to send her off, thighs tightening around Charlie’s hand.

He groans and—oh god, he’s smarter than she’s given him credit for—doesn’t stop thrusting into her, drawing her orgasm out, pulling her through the aftershocks. Most guys, if they manage to make her come at all, stop touching her the minute she says she’s coming, leaving her aching and unsatisfied while they roll over and fall asleep.

When she finally bats his hand away, he stares at his slick hand for a moment before sucking his fingers into his mouth.

“That doesn’t taste like fish at all, dude,” Charlie announces to the room in general, and Dee pulls a pillow over her head and screams.

**Lesson Three: Cunnilingus**

“Charlie, you ever gone down on a woman before?”

“Kind of?”

“What—what kind of answer is that?”

“Well, Stacy Corvelli sat on my face a bunch in high school. Does that count?”

“Yes, of course that fucking counts—look, just let me see what you’ve got.” Dennis looks up at Mac, standing stiff by the door, arms folded and eyes hooded, and Dee bites back a laugh. “Come here and watch, Mac. Maybe you can learn something so you don’t have to take my sloppy seconds every goddamn time.”

It’s nothing but a taunt and Mac rises to it like Dee knew he would, like she knows Dennis was expecting, and she sees the knife edge of his grin out of the corner of his eye when Mac’s eyes bug out and his face turns red.

“Fuck you, Dennis, your mom seemed to like what I was doing,” he growls, stalking towards the bed with single-minded purpose. He elbows Charlie out of the way, the mattress dipping when he sits down, and Dee shudders. This wasn’t what she expected, but Mac’s got a pretty mouth and she’s not about to complain.

“There will be **__**_no_ mention of my mother in this bed, you gross fuck,” Dennis barks.

“Shut up. Charlie, just—watch.”

Mac shoulders Dee’s legs apart and dips his head down, not wasting any time in getting his mouth on her. The first touch of his lips on her clit sends her reeling, and she falls flat on her back with a gasp. Oh, goddamn, it’s been so long.

Mac’s as good as he promised, short swipes of his tongue against her clit making her hips rise and fall, her breath stuttering in her chest. Desperate to have something to hold onto, she dips a hand between her legs and tangles her fingers into Mac’s greasy hair, but he bats her away distractedly, never raising his head from her cunt. Her hands flutter helplessly before they’re both enveloped in different grips, one callused, one smooth, and Dee opens her eyes to see Charlie on one side of her, slack-jawed and hungry, his eyes glued to her face, thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand. On the other side, Dennis is focused as much on Mac’s mouth as he is on what he’s doing to Dee, and if she weren’t so distracted she’d laugh at him. His grip is hard, almost bruising around her wrist, like a cuff pinning her to the bed. It’s overwhelming, feeling all three of them at once, three completely different sensations, and Dee knows she can’t take much more of it.

“Fuck, Mac, use your fingers,” she whimpers, and she hears Charlie let out a little moan next to her. Mac slides two fingers into her, big and blunt and filling, and she gasps and arches up.

“That’s it, Mac, you’re doing so good,” Dennis whispers, and Mac falters in his movements before redoubling his efforts, tongue swirling as he thumps away at her g-spot. Dee’s not sure if he’s proving a point or just trying to make Dennis proud, but the result is the same, and she comes shuddering against his mouth, her vision going blurry for a moment.

Mac’s sweaty and slick with her juices when he sits up, but before he can wipe his mouth off Dennis drags him over, one hand on his collar and the other on the back of his neck. Mac stumbles like he’s drugged, landing half on Dennis’s lap, and Dee watches through her post-orgasm haze as Dennis smashes their mouths together, dragging a rough, low sound out of Mac’s throat that makes her twinge like an aftershock. It figures, even on a night supposedly all about her—or Charlie, whatever—that Dennis would end up making it all about him, but Dee doesn’t even care. She’s gotten hers, and there’s more to come.

Plus, the two of them kissing is hot as shit, Dennis’s tongue darting out to lick Mac’s face clean of the stickiness, of _her_ , then dipping back into Mac’s mouth as his fingers tighten on Mac’s neck. Dee knows Dennis is a good kisser and although she’s never kissed Mac, if he kisses like he eats pussy then Dennis has nothing to complain about. And, judging from the noises he’s making as Mac squirms in his lap, he’s not even thinking, much less coming up with critiques.

“Goddamn, Den, that’s—your sister all over my face,” Mac mumbles, and Dennis laughs against his lips.

“Yeah, and?”

Mac lets out a shaky breath. “You’re disgusting,” he answers, but Dee notices he’s not backing away. Instead, he leans a hand over, swipes it against Dee’s pussy—she gasps, still so sensitive—and offers his slick, sticky fingers to Dennis, pressed against his bottom lip.

“Disgusting,” he moans, when Dennis draws his fingers into his mouth. “God, that’s so hot.”

“Everyone keeps saying that but none of you are leaving,” Dennis mumbles around Mac’s fingers. “Lemme suck your dick, baby boy.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Mac swears. “Yeah, fuck, yeah.”

**Lesson Four: Fucking**

“Guess this one is all on me,” Dee mutters, when it’s obvious that Mac and Dennis are no longer interested in anything else going on in the room. She rolls over on top of Charlie, her hips bracketing his, his thigh warm against her cunt. “Ready for your last lesson?”

There’s a flash of fear in Charlie’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by determination and then, when Dee runs her fingertips over his cock, clouded by lust. He’s thrusting up into her hand slowly but Dee can see the desperation in the way his face screws up, and she leans down and swipes her tongue from root to tip, relishing the groan he lets out. He sounds wrecked, just from her touch, and the power is almost enough to get Dee off again. The head of his dick is sticky with precome, and normally this is just a means to an end but Dee’s kind of enjoying touching him like this.

But there are lessons to be taught, and as good as the rest of the evening has been so far, Dee’s dying for a dick inside her. Charlie’s _big_ , too—thick and heavy in her hand, way bigger than she would’ve expected for someone so compactly built.

Abruptly, she leans over to the bedside table where she knows Dennis has condoms stashed, pulling one out and ripping it open with her teeth. She grips Charlie’s dick and rolls it onto him, then lifts herself up so she’s hovering over him, staring down at his flushed cheeks and chest, his face way too open, too vulnerable as his eyes roam over her body.

“You ready?” she whispers, and he grips her hips and nods quickly. His nails dig in right above the ridge of her hips, perfect little pinpricks of pain that send sparks through her over-sensitive body.

“Yeah, Dee, c’mon, do it.” When she sinks down, slow, his eyes roll back in his head and he moans so loudly Dennis and Mac stop what they’re doing to watch.

“Nice,” Dennis pants, then goes back to mouthing at Mac’s neck, one hand down the back of Mac’s underwear, the other fisted in the collar of his shirt.

“Good job, buddy,” Mac adds, and then, “ _fuck_ , Dennis, your fucking mouth.”

“Turkeys,” Dee says, shaking her head. “You like that, Charlie?”

“I—ohh, shit—”

**Lesson FIve: Afterwards**

“Are you kidding me? Are you goddamn kidding me?”

“I’m _sorry_ , Dee, what do you want me to do? You want me to build a time machine and go back and _not_ come?”

“Charlie, you barely lasted thirty seconds, for god’s sake! You’re a full-grown man, not a teenager!”

“Oh my god, are you two still here? Go away, stop squawking. Be gone.”

“Fucking—Jesus Christ, I’m going home. I hope Mac pukes on your dick, Dennis.”

“Dee, wait—wait!” Charlie scrambles off the bed after her, pulling the condom off and dropping it on the floor as he goes. “ _Dee_!”

“ _What?!_ ” Dee stops near the door, one shoe on, her skirt inside-out. “What do you want?”

“I just.” Charlie scratches his head. He’s wearing his own shirt, put on backwards in his haste, and what looks like Dennis’s jeans, bunched up at the ankles. He looks like an idiot. “You just. Felt really good? You just felt really good, and I couldn’t—don’t, like, be mad.” He grins at her, self-effacing, and Dee can’t help but smile back. “It’s a compliment, if you think about it.”

“Oh, is it?”

“I mean. Yeah?”

A moan sounds out from Dennis’s room, a higher-pitched noise than Dee thought Mac could make, and she rolls her eyes.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Charlie digs around in the pockets of the jeans he’s wearing, comes up with the keys to Dennis’s Range Rover, and grins at her. “Hell yeah.”

This might be a bad decision too, but good decisions are, in Dee’s opinion, really overrated.


End file.
